


spending hours on end

by orphan_account



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Angst, Imagery, M/M, Slight Smut, i dont know what it means either, i'm slightly high because my friend hotboxed the rorom but just roll with it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-09 01:47:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6883984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>i cant breathe</p>
            </blockquote>





	spending hours on end

**Author's Note:**

> i dont know this is my first proper fanficton leave me alone

 

_ Twelve months ago today, they had met. Stood in silence, observing each other, like a predator to another predator. Neither one was prey. _

 

_ They can’t remember exactly what the other was wearing, any exact conversation, nothing like that. All they know is that right now, they slot together like jigsaw pieces, completing the puzzle, and oh, fuck, god, the picture was beautiful. _

 

Sweat dripped between them as they moved, a creature in one, a form of pure evergy. Tyler groaned, muscles in his arms flexing as they shifted at their position of tied above his head. Not with fancy padded cuffs, they didn’t need any of that, just a thin shirt tied tight, restraining Tyler enough for him to be turned on. Sweat gathered at the dips of his collarbones, his forehead, and he moaned again, softer, as Josh ducked his head into his neck. 

 

It was like Tyler was a garden and Josh was tending to him, planting kisses, biting down and watching bruises flower. 

 

“Please.”

 

It was whispered, but heard, the only noises being soft groan and the creaking of the bed as Josh moved his hips.

 

_ And they worked. They worked perfectly, purposely, with no real purpose to work for. But they worked. And they shared stories, of scraped knees, barbed wire fences, knives with tiny flowers painted to the hilt, and each word sounded like birds in the air and leaves in the wind, and each word tasted like cotton candy and smoke, and each word let them breathe, let their chest expand a little further. _

 

Josh had control. Tyler was so frail under his touch, so breakable, trembling, sweaty, and trying to steady himself with hands attatched to Josh’s biceps, toes curled, and finally, fuck, fuck, oh,  _ god, please- _ He cried out, pushing his hips up, up, head dropping into the pillows, he coloured Josh white, thighs tense, ribs clear through his skin. Josh kissed him, planting seeds in his lungs, which would soon flower into something far more beautiful than what was inside Tyler. 

  
_ They had a week or more of each others company, and Tyler wasn’t sure he could breathe for that long. He had time as every one of his friends took him to bars, but he’d catch sight of himself in the bathroom mirror and just go home, and forgive Josh seventy seven times before he went to bed, because those seeds he planted became flowers, and they grew out of his eyes, his ears, every cut in his body, they grew out of his stomach and out of his mouth, and he could no longer talk, let alone breathe, but he forgave Josh, because that’s how the story was supposed to go.  _


End file.
